Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery) (29 page)

“Is he a joking man?”

“Not that I’ve ever noticed.”

Sarah smiled. “So Broghan is going to let it drop?”

“He doesn’t have any choice, but I told him he could have my fee from Livingston as a reward, so he’s not as disappointed as he might’ve been.”

“That’s generous of you.”

He shrugged. “Like you said, I’m rich now. I can afford to pay bribes.”

“I don’t think I said it like that.”

“Yes, you did. But let’s not argue. I’m starving, so I’m going to take you to a nice restaurant.”

“I’m not dressed for a nice restaurant.”

“Then I’ll take you to a not-so-nice restaurant, and you can tell me what happened to our three confessed killers.”

• • •

S
O she went back to Neth?” Maeve asked when Sarah had finished telling her the whole story that night after Catherine was safely in bed.

“She feels like she doesn’t have a choice. She’s convinced her family won’t want her back, and she doesn’t think she’s likely to find a husband to provide for her.”

“I don’t ever want to be that dependent on a man.”

Sarah sighed. “I wish we lived in a world where women had other choices besides getting married or slaving in a sweatshop for starvation wages or selling herself in the street.”

“You supported yourself all this time since your husband died.”

“Yes, but few women can do that. I was lucky.”

“So, are you going to try to find the other women that Pendergast kidnapped?” Maeve asked after a moment.

“Yes. I feel obligated, and Malloy refuses to let me go alone, so he’s going with me. We already know that two of them are safe and two of them died.”

“And one of them is with Neth.”

“I’m not sure we know which family is Joanna’s, but I’m going to visit them all, even if I figure it out, because maybe I can find out if she’s wrong about them not wanting her back. Then for the families whose loved ones didn’t come home, I’ll have to break the news that they might be dead.”

“But at least they’ll know what happened.”

“That’s true. Malloy is going to try to find out if any unidentified women’s bodies were found in churchyards, as Neth claimed Pendergast had told him. Maybe the families can identify and claim them.”

Maeve shuddered. “I thought I knew just how evil men could be, but now . . .”

“I know. I just hope the women who were Pendergast’s victims can recover from what he did to them.”

“Knowing he’s dead should help. I just wonder . . .”

“What?” Sarah asked when Maeve hesitated.

“I just wonder how well Vernon Neth will sleep at night knowing Joanna has already killed two men.”

• • •

T
he next few days were difficult, as Sarah and Malloy visited the addresses in the letters Frank had found in Pendergast’s desk. Frank had found the churches where Pendergast had left the bodies of the two of his victims who had committed suicide at his house. The police had kept descriptions of the bodies and the clothing they were wearing. Still, the descriptions could have fit thousands of women in the city.

Of the ten houses they visited, they found that only five of the victims had made it back to their families. Sarah was able to tell those five women that Pendergast and Andy were dead, at least. They were enormously relieved to know they needed never fear encountering them again. None of them had told their families exactly what had happened to them, preferring to hide behind a story of having been seduced and abandoned by an unscrupulous man. The shame of that was bad enough, but it was something their families could understand. Of the other five families, one of them belonged to Joanna and the others, well, she had to tell them about the two women who had died. They would probably never learn what had become of the two women who had simply never returned home.

As Sarah had hoped, they were able to identify which family was Joanna’s, though her name, they determined, was actually Joan Marie. They had decided that the best strategy was to ask for the missing woman at each home, as they had when they’d called on Rose Wolfe’s family. That way, if the woman had made it safely home, they would know instantly and could simply meet with her alone. If she had not, the family would demand to know who they were and why they had come asking for a woman who had been missing for months or even years.

Joanna’s family was no different. Her father turned out to be a minister, judging by his clerical collar, and he met them in the parlor with a woman who appeared to be no older than Joanna herself. Neither of them looked happy to see them.

“Who are you and what do you want?” the man asked, more angry than concerned.

Malloy introduced himself and Sarah, explaining he was a private investigator. “Mrs. Brandt and I were investigating the disappearance of a young woman, and we discovered a man named Pendergast had lured her to meet him through one of those lonely hearts advertisements.”

The woman said, “I told you that’s what she’d done.” She was a woman Joanna would judge “pretty” enough not to have to settle for what she could get.

Reverend Alexander paid no attention to her remark. “What does this have to do with our missing daughter?”

“Pendergast had no intention of marrying this woman, and in fact he’d been holding her against her will. After rescuing her, we discovered he had done the same to several other females.”

“And you think Joan Marie was one of them?” her father asked.

“We found the letters she had written in response to his advertisement. That’s how we got your address,” Frank hedged.

“But you didn’t find her?” he asked, betraying the first trace of actual concern.

“We didn’t find her at Pendergast’s house,” Malloy said quite honestly.

“May we sit down?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Reverend Alexander said. “Forgive me. It’s just . . . hearing news of Joan Marie after all this time. It’s quite shocking.”

When they were seated, Sarah said, “We have been calling at the addresses we found to see if the women returned to their families and, if they had not, to tell the families what happened to them.”

“So, is she dead?” the woman asked baldly.

“Patricia!” Alexander cried.

“Isn’t that what you were hinting?” Patricia Alexander asked Sarah, unrepentant.

“We do not believe she is dead, no,” Sarah said.

“But she didn’t come home. What could have happened to her?” Alexander asked.

“Any number of things,” Sarah said.

“None of them anything we’d like to hear about, I’m sure,” Patricia said. “I told you, Stephen, she isn’t worth a moment of concern. She’s like a cat; she’ll always land on her feet.”

Malloy made a sound of disgust, and Sarah didn’t bother to hide her dismay. “Are you not Joan Marie’s mother, then?” she asked, having decided she deserved to be insulted.

“Of course not!” she said, suitably insulted.

“Patricia is my second wife,” Alexander said. “Joan Marie’s stepmother.”

What a trial she must have been to Joanna. No wonder she had sought an escape in the lonely hearts column.

“Joan Marie and I were more like sisters,” Patricia claimed. “And she took great delight in looking after my children.”

Sarah doubted this very much. More likely, Patricia took delight in having someone available to look after her children.

“That’s why we were so puzzled when she simply disappeared one day after hinting she might be married soon,” Patricia continued, unaware of Sarah’s opinions. “I mean, really, we knew she had no suitors, so how was she going to marry?”

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Alexander asked. “I would hate to think of her being in want.”

Patricia sniffed in derision. “If she were in want, she would have come crawling back here for a handout.”

Alexander frowned his disapproval but did not rebuke her.

“If we encounter her, we’ll certainly tell her about your concern,” Sarah said.

“Yes, please do,” Alexander said.

They took their leave, and when they were back on the sidewalk, Sarah tucked her arm into Malloy’s and sighed. “I was hoping Joanna was wrong about them.”

“I think the father might’ve taken her back, but the stepmother would’ve made her life miserable.”

“Yes, even a life with Neth doesn’t seem so bad by comparison.”

• • •

W
hen they’D finished the last of the visits, Malloy hailed a cab to take them back to Sarah’s house. The last visit had been particularly difficult, because the parents strongly believed one of the dead girls had been their daughter, based on the description of her clothing. Sarah had wept with them, and now she was exhausted.

When they were ensconced in the cab, Sarah felt the sting of tears again. She wanted to weep for all the women, both those lost and found, but she was afraid there weren’t enough tears in the world for that.

Malloy took her hand in both of his. “You did all you could.”

“I hope so, but I keep thinking about the ones we didn’t find. Where are they? What happened to them?”

“You can’t think like that. If you try to grieve for every missing female in New York, you’ll go crazy.”

“But there must be something I can do.” She looked up at him with a watery smile. “I’m going to marry a millionaire. He should be able to help me.”

Malloy sighed dramatically. “Yes, I guess he will.”

• • •

N
either of them was surprised to find Mrs. Ellsworth was visiting with Maeve and Catherine when they arrived back at Sarah’s house.

The girls were always happy to see Malloy, but today they seemed especially so. Catherine could hardly stand still. They kept exchanging glances with Mrs. Ellsworth, who shared their air of suppressed excitement.

“What’s going on?” Malloy demanded good-naturedly after about five minutes of secret smiles and furtive glances.

“We have a house,” Catherine announced, then clapped a hand over her mouth in case she shouldn’t have said so.

“What do you mean, ‘we have a house’?” Malloy asked, picking her up so he could look her straight in the eye. But Catherine only shook her head, keeping her hand securely over her mouth.

“What she means,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, “is that I’ve located a house that you might be interested in. It will need some modernizing, of course, but—”

“Where is it?” Sarah asked.

“Not too far,” Maeve said with a wicked little smile. “Not too far
at all
.”

“What does that mean?” Malloy asked.

“It means that I thought you might want to stay in the neighborhood,” Mrs. Ellsworth said brightly.

“Near familiar neighbors,” Sarah suggested.

“Exactly! And when I was chatting with Mrs. Martin—”

“Mrs. Theda Martin? Who lives on the corner?” Sarah asked in surprise.

“Yes. Do you know how large that house is? Much larger than I would’ve guessed. She raised five sons there. But they’re all married now, and they’ve moved away. The oldest boy wants her to live with them out on Long Island.”

“So this was her idea?” Malloy asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Oh no,” Mrs. Ellsworth admitted. “She hadn’t thought a thing about it until I explained your situation. She wouldn’t sell to just anyone, but when I told her it was Mrs. Brandt, well . . .”

Sarah exchanged a glance with Malloy, who shrugged.

“The wallpaper is horribly old-fashioned,” Mrs. Ellsworth continued, “and you’ll probably want to add a bathroom or even two—”

“How long will that take?” Malloy asked suspiciously.

“Oh, I’m sure it could be done in a month.”

Sarah looked up at Malloy again. “I don’t suppose it could hurt to look at it.”

“No,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t suppose it would.”

“And,” Mrs. Ellsworth added, pulling a newspaper from behind her back, “you’ll probably want to move as soon as possible, because this newspaper article about Mr. Malloy’s inheritance also mentions where he lives.”

Author’s Note

W
hen researching the Gaslight Mysteries, I’ve often encountered instances where the issues people were concerned about at the turn of the last century were the same issues we are concerned about today: spirituality, finding Mr. Right, alternative medicine, the immigrant’s role in society, etc. One issue I’d been thinking about a lot lately was the potential dangers of social media and the way predators use it to deceive unsuspecting innocents. Not surprisingly, I learned this isn’t a new problem. As long as personal ads have existed, predators have used them for evil. The only thing that has changed is the technology.

Interestingly, I already knew that several historical serial killers had lured their victims through lonely hearts advertisements, and I had already come up with the idea for this book when the contemporary story about the Cleveland kidnappings broke. A man had kept three women hostage in his house for nearly a decade in much the same way I’d had Pendergast doing. This was an unfortunate confirmation that human evil hasn’t really changed over the past century.

Please let me know how you liked this book by contacting me through my website, victoriathompson.com, or “like” me on Facebook, facebook.com/Victoria.Thompson.Author, or follow me on Twitter: @gaslightvt. I’ll send you a reminder when the next book in the series comes out in the spring of 2015.